


Ich Tu Dir Weh

by Morgana_Ren



Series: Like Lovers Do [1]
Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Alcohol, All credit goes to the creators and their characters, Angry crazy German boy fucking you into the floor, Bloodplay, Don't read this if you're going to trigger yourself, Dubious Consent, F/M, German lovespeak, He might just like you too, If you're a victim of trauma please don't read, Just me being gross with my possession fetish, Kidnapping, Possession, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sadism, Seriously you played the game, Stalking, Stockholm Syndrome, Violence, You might be a little twisted yourself, You might like him a little, binding, please take care of yourself, slight drugging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 20:15:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15781323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana_Ren/pseuds/Morgana_Ren
Summary: After a night of heavy drinking, you push yourself to go out and meet some new friends. Little do you know, a predator has set his sights on you, just waiting to sink his claws in. He'll stop at nothing to have you.





	Ich Tu Dir Weh

**Author's Note:**

> (Hey guys, I'm sort of going through and rewriting this little by little because when I read over it, I keep finding mistakes. Granted, I was... pretty trashed when I wrote it, so I should expect that, but still. Hopefully it'll at least be passable soon.)
> 
> Morgana Ren back at it again with the trash bin!  
> Look, I can't justify this one. It's just page after page of violence and sex.  
> I wrote it drunk, so be prepared for that.  
> I'll be honest, I hated Strade at first. He irritated me. I thought I'd be way more interested in Rire or Sano. Well, as interested as you can be when you know they're going to either going to kill you or hurt you in ways that made you wish you were dead.  
> I adore Sano, and maybe one day I'll get around to writing a fic about that, but for now, here's my weird love for Strade embodied. I'm a little resentful I like him so much.  
> It was originally going to be a oneshot, but I left an opening in case I decided to write more. That's up to you guys.

I could feel the headache echo through my brain before I even fully awoke. Even in my dream, I could feel the unforgiving pound reverberating through my skull like a tennis match, fighting for dominance with the churning in my gut that threatened to spill whatever contents I had left in my stomach overboard onto the surface beneath me. The feeling was familiar enough, almost second nature at this rate.

Hangover. Again. How many times again this month?

I wasn’t entirely sure which feeling was worse. The overwhelming disappointment in myself, or the nausea, headache, and complete lack of memory for the last 12 hours combined. You’d think at this point, someone with my unrepentant desire for liquor would have learned a few tricks to stave off the terrible repercussions of drinking. Not even close.

Instead, I spent most mornings almost exactly like this one. No idea where I was, what I had done, or who I was with when I did it. Wouldn’t surprise me much if I had an arrest warrant or some pissed off roommate looking for me. I couldn’t remember for the life of me where I had passed out. In fact, I couldn’t remember much past my sixth shot. I seriously needed to learn portion control.

All of this led to a better question, which was where did I end up this time?

I couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes quite yet, but after shifting my frame slightly, I could feel a firm mattress beneath me. No street or alleyway, thank whatever Gods were out there. I was in a bed somewhere. That was good start, right?

No part of me was quite ready to pull my eyes open quite yet, so instead I hoped and prayed that drunken me had been kind enough to leave behind some sort of pick-me-up. Sometimes even in my inebriated state, I was wise enough to leave myself a glass of water and a few Tylenol or something. Occasionally I was an asshole and left myself a water bottle full of vodka. I really hoped this wasn’t one of those times, and that wherever I was, I had found some container to get water into. My mouth felt drier than the Sahara and frankly I’d rather throw up sink water than raw acid, and I could feel my dry heaves getting more and more frequent.

Throwing my hand out, I reached around, searching for some sort of flat surface or makeshift nightstand where I could have left myself something or anything to soothe this pain. After a moment of grabbing at nothing, I felt the cheap wood underneath my fingertips. I rolled my body slightly, mewling as I felt my stomach protest my movement, and tried my best to feel around the surface. After a few sweeping movements, I felt a dingy water bottle crackle lightly under my touch. It was full. Oh, thank you, merciful Lord, for this gift. This beautiful bounty bestowed unto me despite my foolishness.

Finally gathering the willpower, I pried my eyes open. The surroundings looked familiar. Generic wallpaper, stupid posters, cheap black comforter. I was home. A huge mercy considering I had no idea where I had been, but I had made it back to my dorm somehow, and for that I was grateful. Maybe I was getting closer to learning to control my blackouts. My relief was washed away by another oncoming wave of nausea, and I grabbed the bottle, crushing it between my fingers as I tore away the cap and slammed it to my mouth, pushing down the creeping acid momentarily.

As I gulped, I stared at the ebbing ceiling, still feeling partially drunk. I had no clue when I had returned home or even when I had managed to crawl into bed, so it was entirely possible that I was still pumping a good amount of alcohol through my blood stream. If that was true, the worst was yet to come. I groaned audibly, pushing the water aside and back onto the nightstand. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small white paper fall off the nightstand and onto the floor as I pushed the bottle away. I knew I hadn’t left any paper there before I left yesterday, so chances were that I left it for myself last night before I completely passed out.

“Fuck me.” I pushed my lips out, sighing. “This had better be good.”

If this was a random jerkoffs phone number or a reminder for some date I made last night, I’d go back in time just to strangle myself. Swallowing down the sickness, I pushed my body partially off the bed, reaching my arm down to fish for the paper on the floor. After slamming my hand around blindly a few times, I managed to catch the edge and curled it up in my fist, bringing it back up on the bed.

I took a second to breathe before I unwrapped it, winded from leaning over the bed. It was generic notebook paper, albeit ripped down the middle like it had been torn in a hurry. I unfurled it, narrowing my eyes so I could read my own drunk chicken scratch.

‘ _check pocket of pant.’_

Eloquent as always, drunk me.

I closed my eyes again, shoving my hand down under the blanket and into the back pockets of whatever pants I had passed out in. Jeans by the feel of it. Please tell me I didn’t pass out with fruit or yogurt in my pocket again. It wasn’t unheard of for me to try and leave myself a snack, only to wake up covered in applesauce from the waist down.

Nothing in the back pocket of the jeans.

Irritation rose in my chest and I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t in the mood for my own stupid shenanigans. Why couldn’t I ever just tell myself what the fuck I was looking for?

I moved my hand around the front pockets until I heard a slight crinkle. Dipping my hands further, I dug down deep until I felt some sort of wrapper. I pushed my nails in, yanking the object out and holding it in my open palm. It took a second for my eyes to adjust, but upon recognizing it, I felt like singing.

It was a pouch of medicine that had been ripped off of a larger portion, and I knew what it was immediately. Hospital grade anti-nausea meds. A fucking miracle drug. Put it under your tongue for 2 minutes and you’d feel golden after about 30. Well, minus the headache and the self-loathing, but that’s what Gatorade was for, right?

I ripped the aluminum foil off the back and plopped the medicine underneath my tongue. They didn’t exactly taste great, but I did my best to keep the bile down until they dissolved. If I hurled these up, I was going to be fucked for at least the rest of today and early tomorrow, maybe longer depending on how overboard I went last night. I took another sip of the water after a few moments and let myself sink into the mattress, doing my best to forget, or I guess remember, how I got here in the first place.

I allowed myself to slip into a semi-sleep for an hour. My mind was running at Mach 5, trying to sort through everything and fill in the blanks my brain had conveniently left out. I occasionally felt the deep, clawing anxiety rake through me, not unusual when you’re as hung over as I am. I did my best to shake it off, waiting to feel well enough to stand. I was grateful I didn’t have class today. I didn’t feel like sending my professor another one of my half assed excuses, and I certainly didn’t feel well enough mentally or physically to deal with my classmate’s judgmental stares when I stumbled in half an hour late reeking like booze and regret. Like they didn’t drink themselves half to death every weekend at some frat house underneath the hairy arm of some pledge after a sweaty romp in a filthy bathroom. Go ahead and throw the first stone, assholes.

It took a little while, but eventually my stomach relaxed and my headache settled down to a dull roar. I felt well enough to sit up and shove myself off the bed. I gave myself a moment to adjust before I starting any sort of movement, since I’d rather not push my luck. Slowly, I made my way downstairs and into the kitchen, pulling out some overly sweet drink and a bowl of fruit-something. I didn’t really care what it was, I just knew I needed to eat something.

Not wanting to run into anyone, I hustled back up the stairs and devoured my meal in private. My gut protested a little at first, but slowly I started to feel better, and my hands stopped shaking and my stamina returned. I threw my dirty dishes aside, promising myself I’d wash them later and not just let them stack up this time. For now, I just wanted to relax and recover.

I flipped on my TV, turning on some easy show that didn’t require much thought. I watched for a bit, but eventually my mind started to wander, going everywhere from making plans for the future to feeling sorry for myself. It was pathetic, but I didn’t have the energy to argue with myself. Instead, I curled the comforter tighter to myself, ignoring the gnawing in my chest. Loneliness. Depression. Overwhelming anxiety. I tried to focus on the positive instead. Happy, simple, stupid shit that made life worth living.

After the fourth or fifth episode, the sun was going down, and darkness enveloped my room. It felt like the walls were closing in on me. I desperately tried to think of something I’d enjoy doing to take my mind off things, but I was faced with a blank. I found myself with a dangerous cocktail of emotions. Boredom and sadness. I had to get out of here, do something, anything. I felt suffocated, like I was drowning in my own pity and angst. There had to be something I could do in my current state. Although I was absolutely relieved the physical sickness had died down, I was going to go mad in my own mind.

I could go out and have some fun somewhere, maybe meet some new friends. Nothing too heavy, just hang out for an hour or so. The campus was pretty close to a few hotspots. Who knows, maybe going out might make me feel better. ‘Getting out of your own head’ right? I’d stray away from house parties or any keggers. Just a nice, calm place with a few potential future friends.

Somewhere in my desk drawer, I had some flyers I’d torn off the community bulletin board. Places looking for patrons and me looking for a good time. I shuffled through them, looking each one over.

‘The Snake Pit.’ Some night club advertising a DJ and partying all night long. Not a good idea for me right now. I didn’t really want to party, and honestly, I didn’t feel like dancing. I threw it back in the drawer. Maybe another night.

‘Snapdragon Jazz Lounge.’ It sounded fancy. Some place where you’d have to dress up and pretend to be cultured and refined. Too much effort at the moment. I just wanted something easy and natural.

‘The Braying Mule: Friendliest Bar in Town!’ That sounded promising. Just because it was a bar didn’t mean I have to drink, right? Plenty of patrons by the sound of it. No party goers or socialites. Just nice, normal people. I could hang around, meet some nice folks, and maybe have a few extra contacts by the time I headed home. Two drink maximum. Yeah, two drink maximum.

I slipped out of my dirty clothes and threw them in the bin, and pulled down a tee shirt and jeans from my closet. It was a bar, so no need to get all dressed up. I peered at the address one last time before I folded the flyer and stuck it in my back pocket. It wasn’t far, so there was no need to drive. Just a few blocks over. One last glance over in the mirror before I left. I was a bit swollen from my drinking last night, and my feet felt hot and heavy, but I was ready to go. I was determined to have a nice night that I would actually remember, like an average human being and not a borderline functional alcoholic.

I headed out the door and felt the wind on my face. A nice autumn breeze that smelled like dry leaves and rain. The moon was just peaking out from behind the clouds, leaving small silver shards of light along the sidewalk. It was refreshing, and I did my best to think positive thoughts as I trudged along the walkway towards my destination. I would make the best of this night.

I walked along, scoping out all the buildings and people who happened to be on my path. Nothing in particular caught my eye. College kids rushing along with their books and laundry, cars on the street, occasionally someone offering drugs or a place to party. It was all the same as it always was, nothing special. I tuned it out, choosing to indulge in the scenery instead of paying attention to the people littering the roads. Anxiety pulsed in my head occasionally, but I did my best to suppress it. I went out all the time. There was nothing to be anxious about. It was the post-drinking depression getting at me. It wasn’t going to stop me this time.

I walked along for a while until I found it. There was a small sign outside advertising the business, partnered with a few patrons smoking and loitering around the entrance. It didn’t look too busy, so I ducked inside, smiling politely to the few people who looked my way. It seemed like a friendly enough place, with enough people to keep it in business but not enough to make it too packed.

I scooted myself in an empty table in the corner, trying my best to not look out of place. I didn’t want people talking to me solely because they felt sorry for me. I pretended to glance over the drink menu, flipping it back and forth. I must’ve caught the attention of the barman, because a few moments later, a woman who looked to be a waitress or perhaps a bar back approached my table, snapping gum between her teeth as she asked if I’d like to order anything.

It caught me by surprise, I wasn’t really expecting table service. Maybe it was a good thing though, since I guess I’d look like a weirdo just sitting in a bar with no drink and no friends. I scanned the menu, quickly settling on the first thing that made my mouth water.

“May I have some fries, please?” I did my best to send her an inconspicuous smile.

“Of course, anything else?” She jotted it down, hardly looking up at me.

“Nope, that should be good. Thank you!” My hand tapped anxiously against my leg. 

“Nothing to drink? We have a few special drinks on the menu-“

“No, thank you!” I quickly spit out. “The fries would be great!” Even I could hear the panic in my voice and knew I must’ve sounded like a lunatic. If I ordered a drink, that would turn into two and three and then God knows how many. Better to just not risk it. I’d rather one waitress think I’m some sort of freak than risk a repeat of last night.

“O-kay then. We’ll have that out for ya in a few moments. Can I get you a cola or… something?” She eyed me suspiciously. She probably thought I was a moron, coming to a bar to get fries and a soda.

“No thanks, just the fries would be good.” She nodded and stalked off into the kitchen without a second glance backward at me. I gave a small sigh of relief.

I ran my hand across my brows, massaging lightly. I could hardly deal with a waitress without looking loony, let alone someone who actually opted to speak to me. I don’t know what I was thinking. Coming here might have been a mistake. Maybe I would have been better off just going for a small walk or seeking out one of my roommates for a lunch date. I wanted to make new friends, but being here was making me feel awkward. I had no doubt I looked miserable and unapproachable. Maybe I should just pay for the fries and slip out of here and try calling one of my acquaintances to see if they wanted to catch a movie or something.

I battled it in my head. Part of me wanted to leave, the other was resolved to stay. I was already here, after all, and it was still somewhat early. Maybe I would just spend a little bit here and then head off to greener pastures? I was tired of feeling lonely, and tired of drinking out of boredom. Sure, this probably wasn’t the ideal place for me to hang out, but even if I just stayed away from the liquor menu, I would consider the evening a success. I pulled out my phone, sending a few half ass texts to some people to fish for replies, praying that some of them weren’t so fed up with my bullshit that they’d be willing to give me a chance. I sent them my location, offering to pay if anyone joined. Now just to wait and see.

I decided I’d hang around until I either finished my fries or got a reply, then I would head out. If no one responded by then, I would mosey on home, nothing lost except the cost of my meal. I needed some real food anyway. I should be proud that I came out in the first place. I didn’t sit at home and feel sorry for myself, I came out and at least gave it a try. In the meantime, I did my best to make myself look pleasant, which meant repeatedly scanning menus, pretending to look for drinks or food or whatever they had here. I didn’t want to just stare into a corner angrily like some sort of brooding artist.

“Hey there!”

The sound caught me by surprise. It was a lively voice that sounded awfully close, with an accent I couldn’t quite place. I looked up from my menu to see a man with a cheery smile holding two beers in front of my table. Without prompting, he placed the beer in front of me and slid down into the opposite chair. He had shoulder length dark brown hair that was unkempt and slightly greasy, lightly tanned skin, and a bit of stubble on his chin, like he hadn’t shaved in a few days. He was a burly man, muscled and slightly round, and I noticed a small scar curving up the side of his jaw to his lower lip. He wasn’t unattractive by any means, but he definitely seemed like he could use a few hygiene pointers.

I doubted he went to school around here, since he was likely a few years older than me. He seemed like a working man, and though I couldn’t really place where, I could tell by his calluses that he worked with his hands. Maybe a mechanic or some sort of dock worker? Either way, he seemed friendly enough, and so far, he was the only one to talk to me besides the waitress, so I did my best to seem amicable.

“Oh, thanks a lot!” I grinned happily. He nodded appreciatively, flashing his teeth in turn.

“So, what’s your name?” He lifted a thick eyebrow at me, cocking his head slightly. I told him my name, doing my best to seem polite. He pushed a stray stand of hair out of his face.

“Name’s Strade.” His voice was casual, but he was smiling, very, very widely. It sort of reminded me of those Janus masks. “So, what’s on your mind, buddy?”

Was it that obvious I was depressed, or was this just normal bar talk? I wasn’t really sure. This was why I came here, right? A charismatic man literally sat down in front of me, so maybe I should just roll with it.

“I’ve been going to school. It’s been super busy.” I tried not to seem desperate. “Most of my friends don’t come out anymore, with our schedules and all.”

“Sounds like a drag. So, you haven’t seen your friends in a while now?” His tone didn’t really match his words, but I couldn’t quite place why. Maybe he was a little tipsy. I shrugged it off.

“No, I guess not. We used to see each other a lot but not so much anymore, I guess I’ve just been coming out to meet new people and try and expand my horizons.” I lied. Most of my friends had gotten tired of me or had pursued other ventures. I hadn’t actually hung out with anyone I was close with in ages.

Strade gave me a peculiar look, like he was calculating. His eyes narrowed imperceptibly, but it almost seemed like he was studying me. I suddenly felt very uncomfortable, and took a swig of the beer, trying to chalk it up to my overreactive anxiety. This guy was trying to be nice, and I was being an ass. He watched as I took a few swallows, waiting until I finished to speak again.

“It’s no surprise you’re feeling a bit down.” The corner of his mouth tugged downward sympathetically.

“I came here to make myself feel better. Thanks for trying to help.” I donned a meek smile, feeling the alcohol spread through my limbs.

“That’s what coming to a bar is for, right?” He gave a laugh, I chuckled with him for a moment before the waitress loitered over, placing the fries in front of us.

“Sorry hun. I didn’t know you had a friend.” She nodded at me before turning to Strade. “You want anything?”

“No, thank you. I have everything I need.” He didn’t glance at her, only continued to stare at me. I shifted in my seat. Something about his words just felt wrong. He never blinked or faltered, only raked his eyes over me like a specimen. I took a fry and ate it, pulling my eyes from him.

“May I have some, _liebling_?” German, of course. His accent was German. Maybe he was an exchange or something. Maybe that’s why his manners are so odd?

“Sure. Help yourself.” I grabbed another and plopped it into my mouth. I hoped he wasn’t looking anymore, but I knew he was. I could feel it, and it sent a shiver down my spine. I did my best to avoid his heated gaze, drinking my beer and occasionally eating the fries. We sat in awkward silence for a few moments, but he never stopped his cheery smile. I tried to return it, but it just felt weird.

I realized I finished my beer when I tried to take a drink of the empty glass, only to drink swill. He giggled coolly, and I bit my tongue, wondering why it made me so uneasy. I didn’t want to be here anymore. He was too intense. Everything about him seemed off. I prayed for my phone to vibrate in my pocket so I could have a good excuse to leave without sounding rude.

“You drink pretty quick!” He tapped my mug, breaking the silence between us.

“Oh.” I stared at the bottom of my empty glass. “I hadn’t even realized. I’m sorry. You haven’t had much of yours.”  I gestured to his own cup, and I noted that he hadn’t even touched it yet. Even a non-drinker would have had a few sips by now. Why was he avoiding it?

“Not to worry!” He gave me another infectious smile that made me recoil. His amber eyes shined almost unnaturally as he picked up his glass and took a deep drink, never taking his sight off me. I felt sick now, and the fluid churned in my stomach. I looked around, hoping someone else would come and claim him soon. Surely, he didn’t come here alone too?

When no one so much as glanced our way, and it dawned on me that that’s exactly what he did. Why? Why would anyone come here alone by choice, unless…?

I could hear my heart beat in my ears. I needed to get out of here. Something was wrong. I could feel it. I needed to leave.

I did my best to look casual as I pulled at the watch on my wrist. “Shit, I got class tomorrow. I should probably head out.” I fake yawned. He only chortled, glancing at the clock on the wall. It wasn’t super late, but he bought the excuse and he gave a wave of his hand to the waitress, beckoning her to bring the check.

“That time already, huh? Don’t worry about the check, I got you, buddy! You have a nice night! And remember, be sure to get home safe!” He shot me an earsplitting grin. I nodded, thanking him for the food, but I still felt nervous. Maybe when I got home, my anxiety would calm itself. He seemed like a nice enough man, and I was likely being awful by ditching him, but something just felt wrong. I just wanted to be somewhere else, preferably with someone else. I gave him one last wave goodbye before stepping outside and ducking into an alley on the side of the bar.

I glanced at my cell phone. No messages or calls. I guess I really was alone for the night. I didn’t have the energy to find somewhere else to hang out, and I guess it was getting sort of late. I could just go home and take a Benadryl to pass out early and maybe get a head start on my assignment in the morning. I actually was kind of tired. For a moment, I contemplated calling a taxi or something to take me home, but honestly, I shouldn’t waste the cash. I sighed, and started walking down the alleyway, lamenting the loss of the evening.

“Aw, that’s too bad.”

I froze. That voice. I started to turn when I felt a hand on my wrist, knocking my phone to the edge of my fingertips. My breath caught in my throat. This wasn’t my imagination.

“What are you doing?” I managed to choke out. “Strade?” His hand was still on my wrist, and he was smirking down at me with his face flushed red. He licked his lips and I swallowed hard. Whatever it was he was planning, I wasn’t going to like it. He wouldn’t force himself on me this close to a busy pub, would he?

_‘Run!’_

My mind was screaming at me. Every instinct in my body was begging me to get the hell out of this situation. I tried to yank my hand from his grasp, but he just gripped tighter, digging his nails into my skin. I let out a small yelp and I heard my phone clatter to the ground, shattering underneath his boot. I tried to shake his iron grip again, but he grabbed my shoulders, shoving me against the alley wall. The back of my head hit against the bricks.

White. Pain. Tugging flesh and pain. I could smell pennies. I knew he wouldn’t have second thoughts about killing me. He was too strong.

He rested his head on my shoulder, and I felt his breath against my neck. I tried to inch away but he only pulled me closer. “Shhh, _Süßling_.” Something warm and wet scraped against my flesh. Was he licking me?

My vision was blotting and I felt a trickle fall down the back of my scalp. I tried to pull myself free again, using what was left of my strength to fend him off. Instinct. I needed to get out. Fight. I thrashed against him, doing what I could to push him off me.

A rough hand over my mouth. It smelled like oil and beer. Move. Squirm. Do something.

“Mmmrrrmm!” I tried to bite, but he shoved his fingers into my mouth before I could get my teeth down.

“Are you going to come quietly, or are you going to make me work for it?” His voice was husky, and he was smiling again. I narrowed my eyes defiantly, and bit down as hard as I could. He yanked his hand out, staring at the wound almost lovingly.

“Wow… _Lebhaft!_ ” His breathing got hard and his eyes glazed over. He seemed enthralled with the mark I left on him, so I started to move away, but my movement pulled him from his daze. Tongue running over his teeth, he leaned forward and brought the back of his hand across my face. I hit the asphalt beneath his feet, coughing. I tasted blood as I clawed up the gravel beneath my nails, trying pathetically to drag myself away. He put his work boot on top of me, pressing against my sternum and keeping me in place. He gathered my hands, placing a zip tie on my wrists as I wiggled and protested, muttering curses and threats under my breath.

He slammed my head into the concreate one last time, and my last vision before I blacked out was an expensive looking car, right before he shoved me in the trunk. I heard a door slam and felt the car begin to move before I lost consciousness completely.

I don’t know how long I stayed like that. I floated in a black abyss, a dreamless sleep for what felt like eons. I must have been out, because I don’t recall him gathering me from the trunk or where we ended up. I could swear I could hear him whistling even as I weaved in and out of reality.

When I finally managed to come to, I realized that even when I opened my eyes, I couldn’t see anything. Wherever I was, it was dark. I tried to pick myself up, but my hands were bound behind my back to some metal pole or column. I had been tied here and left to slump over as I slept.

That’s when the panic set in.

I began to hyperventilate as events from earlier flooded back to me. The bar. The blackout.

Strade.

He fucking abducted me. He abducted me and tied me in a dark room for good measure. I could feel the residual pain from where he had cracked my head. That motherfucker! Even when I didn’t drink, I still couldn’t go a single day without a headache.

“Strade! Strade, you son of a bitch! Where the fuck am I?” 

I heard thumping coming from above me, and then the sounds of heavy footfall. I was in a basement, that much I knew. He had heard me. He had heard me and he was coming down here. Shit, maybe beckoning him hadn’t been my best idea. I had no idea what he wanted. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut and tried to find ways to escape this situation. Again, I was reminded of my poor impulse control.

I prayed he was just very sexually awkward and into bondage.

A door opened, and a sliver of light fell on a staircase on the far side of the room. I heard his boots thump against the stairs before he entered the room and flicked a switch on the wall. I hissed at the drastic change in lighting.

“You’re already awake!” He beamed, seeming almost proud. “How you feelin’?”

I snarled at him. “What the hell, man? Where am I? Why am I tied up in a fucking basement?”

“Don’t remember?” He gave a petty smirk, and my anger flared. “That’s okay. We were having a nice little chat, and I thought to myself, I’d love to get to know this person better! So, I brought you home!” He stated matter-of-factly.

“Do you always attack and tie up your dates, or am I just that special?” Spitting through my teeth, I glared at him.

He gave a hearty chuckle. “You are so full of energy! I can tell we’re going to have a lot of fun together!”

I frowned. “Whatever your idea of _fun_ is, I’m sure I’m not interested. But I’ll forget all about this and _you_ if you untie me right now and let me go.” 

“You kidder.” He patted my head condescendingly. “Oh! I almost forgot. Before we get started, do you want something to eat? To drink maybe?”

My mouth fell open, and I blinked a few times. “What? What? You know what, yeah, now is the perfect time for a beer, I’ll take a beer. Are you fucking kidding me?!” I tried to launch myself at him, but was pulled back painfully by the ties around my wrists.

He licked his lips, letting his eyelids droop slightly. “Mm, so spirited. I can tell I’m going to like you.” Turning from me, he strode over to a small fridge in the corner. It was angled away from me, but I could see him reach in and pull out a canned beer. He really had a fucking beer in there. Wow.

He walked back over towards me, cracking the top off the can. He bent down, angling it in front of me.

“You must be joking.” I looked up at him disbelievingly. He only tutted at me, tapping his finger on the can. I took a deep breath and nodded, allowing him to tip the beverage into my mouth. It wasn’t great tasting, just cheap, generic beer, but I gulped it down, limbs suddenly feeling heavier the more I drank. After he patted out the last few drops, he crushed the can in his hand, throwing it in a corner.

“Feel better?” He smiled down at me, somehow able to carry on a perfectly normal conversation despite the fact there was a person tied up in his basement.

“I feel drunker, if that’s what you mean.” I let my head loll over to rest on my shoulder. He giggled, reaching into his back pocket. When I looked back up, he was brandishing a large hunting knife.

“Jesus fuck!” I tried to scramble away, succeeding only in pulling my legs closer to my body. “Do not tell me that’s what I think it’s for!”

“Your clothes are in the way!” He declared gleefully.

“If you think you’re going to-Hey!” He pushed the knife under the sleeve of my shirt, raking it up towards my collar. “Stop it, you absolute psychopath!”

He ignored me, raking the knife down the seams of my shirt, letting the shreds fall away before he began cutting the waist of my pants. I hissed in pain as the knife grazed my skin a few times, never cutting deep but just enough to leave small red marks. I was slightly relieved when he stopped at my underwear, leaving it intact. When I shivered, I became aware just how cold it was in here, and how very exposed I was. I tried to cross my knees in front of my body to block his view, but judging by his wandering eyes, it most likely wasn’t very effective. I blushed hard, pulling my eyes away from him.

He exhaled audibly, and when I looked up, he was biting his tongue between his teeth. “You’re so….” He paused momentarily, seemingly searching for the right words to say. “Unbroken.”

“Oh, what the fuck, what the fuck!” I banged my head against the metal behind me and crammed my eyes shut. “What the hell is your damage? Who does this shit?”

“ _Dummes Mädchen_! I do!” He laughed, like this was the most natural thing in the world.

“Why? Just why?” I kept hitting my head on the pole, praying this was some nightmare I was having after drinking bad Absinthe.

He bent down to his knees, crawling toward me until he was only a few inches away. I could smell him again. He smelled like some sort of machine oil and sweat. I did my best to pull away, but his hand shot out, grabbing my leg and roaming his rough skin around my inner thigh.

“I have a lot of reasons.” He was quiet now, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want to. I can.” His hand crept closer to my sensitive areas, and goosebumps trailed across my body. I bit the inside of my lip as he slid further and further upward, stopping just short of the leg seam of my panties, his breathing becoming heavier and heavier. “We’re going to have a very _intimate_ experience.”

My stomach dropped. No no no no NO. He was one of _those_. I closed my eyes, exhaling, letting my head slam a final time against the surface as I lost the willpower to hold it up.

He chuckled darkly, putting his free hand in my hair, weaving it around his fingers.

“Tell me, have you ever _screamed_ for anyone before?”

Crass, crude, and utterly psychotic. My dream guy right here, everyone. I didn’t have time to voice my defensive sarcasm before I felt cold steel against my thigh. That fucking knife. He held it to my skin, pushing only slightly as his eyes bore into me. He was waiting for some sort of reaction. Go to hell, how’s that for a reaction.

Almost like he could hear me, he put pressure down, dragging the knife up my thigh. Searing pain wracked my nerves and I screamed. There was something surreal about hearing my own voice echo off the basement walls. For a moment, it was almost like I was hearing someone else. But reality came crashing down when he ripped the knife away, finally taking it from my body.

It took a few seconds for me to catch my breath, swallowing down the pain as best I could. I was no stranger to knives on skin, but his cuts were so deep and deliberate, I had never felt anything like it. I opened my eyes and glared at him. He was eyeing my legs again, breathing hard and heavy. My lip curled in hatred.

“Fuck. You.”

He hummed happily, placing the knife on the other side of my thigh. I braced myself for the pain, sucking my lip into my teeth. I still wasn’t ready when it came.

I screamed again, feeling every inch as he pulled the knife along the unmarred flesh. I heard a string of curses leave my mouth, but I didn’t remember formulating them. The lesions burned, testing my pain limit. If he made another one, I might come undone. It hurt unbelievably, and blood was beginning to steadily leak from both the lacerations he had made, coating my thigh in my own fluid, dripping onto the floor as it flowed. He pulled the knife away again, and I exhaled in relief. The cuts stung and singed my nerves as they were left to sit, and my upper leg felt like it was on fire, but it was nothing compared to him making them. I tried to even my breathing out, blinking back the tears that were filming over my eyes.

He shuddered, pushing his bloodied hands through his hair. “I’m getting too excited…”

“Fucking freak!” I seethed, spitting at him. It landed on his cheek, and for a moment, he looked furious. I thought he might plunge the knife in my neck and be done with it. I did not, however, think that he would smile deviously, take his finger, gather the saliva, and plop it into his mouth, sucking on it like a popsicle.

“Oh, now that’s just… That’s just wrong.” Bile rose in my throat. Everything about this was just wrong. Pain shot through my legs, and I choked back a groan.

“I’ll have to return the favor soon, _schön_.” He wiped the knife off on his pants and placed it back where it came from before reaching out to my skin once more. I jerked away from him.

“Oh no… Look how much you’re bleeding.” His mouth was open, and he looked like he wanted to touch the blood.

“Save your phony concern you… you…” My mind was foggy. Between the pain and the blood loss, I was having trouble thinking straight. I tried my hardest to sneer at him defiantly, but he was looking a little… multiple.

“Mmm, you’re not going to last like that…” He leaned into me again, placing his fingers on my chin to push my head up to look at him. “Would you like me to stitch those up for you?” 

“If you think… I want you anywhere near me with a needle… You are crazier than I thought. And I was… very certain we’d hit the bottom of the barrel.” I gulped in air, feeling like I was suffocating, but determined to keep my strong facade.

“Really?” He cocked an eyebrow at me, pushing his thumb into the side of my mouth. “Are you… afraid it’ll hurt?” I tried to jerk my head away, he dug his fingers into the tender flesh harder, keeping me in place. His eyes were glazing over, and I could feel _something_ hard pushing against my upper leg. He took his free hand and placed it on my thigh lightly, just over the biggest cut. I saw the blood pool between his fingers and I cringed. “Sometimes things you don’t want will happen.” His hand slid down, trailing blood down my leg. Red. Red everywhere. “And there won’t be anything you can do about it.”

He raked his nails down my skin, and I gasped in shock and discomfort. The sensation was nothing compared to the wound on my legs, but it was unpleasant none the less.

“Ha… Ha haaa…” He rubbed his hands up along my stomach, painting my skin in my own liquids. I could smell metal, and knowing the source made me sick to my stomach. There was so much of it. I forced myself to look up at him.

The look on his face just made it worse. He was flushed a deep crimson, making undiscernible noises as he played in my blood like a toddler finger-paints. If I didn’t know better, I would have said he was having an asthma attack with the way he was breathing. His front tooth nipped at his lip, and the way he looked made me nervous for an entirely different reason. He looked… aroused.

“Aah… This… Isn’t enough.” He withdrew his hand, and the panic increased tenfold when I heard the sound of a zipper being dragged down.

“No! No no no! I’ll take the stitches, just keep your fucking pants on!” I tried to pull away again, the zip ties grinding into my skin. I would rather him take that knife and finish the job rather than allow him to violate me after he just cut me up like a birthday cake.

“Oh?” Disappointment flashed on his face briefly, but it was gone as soon as it arrived, replaced with a cheery smile. “Great!” He picked himself up off the floor, walking toward some cabinets on the opposite side of the room, pulling out a small medical kit. Sitting down in front of me again, he opened it up, taking out a small curved needle and some thread. He whistled a tune I didn’t recognize as he threaded the string through, pausing only to peer up at me and say “This is probably going to hurt.”

“Get it over with, you nutcase.” I scoffed, trying to hide my fear.

It did indeed hurt, the needle pushing through my skin sending a wave of stinging pain through my leg. I grit my teeth, balling my fists and pushing my nails into my palm to distract from it. He moved quickly and surely, almost like he was practiced. First one cut, and then another, deftly moving through the skin, lacing it together.

“Almost…” He plucked his fingers on the final suture, and I growled at him. “Done! Just one last thing.” He held up a small bottle. “Alcohol! Can’t have you getting infected! Not when we’ve just started to get to know each other!”

“Don’t you fucking dar-Ack!” He splashed the alcohol lazily onto my fresh cuts. It felt like acid against my skin, and I grit my teeth in frustration. A stray tear managed to escape the confines of my lashes. I hoped he didn’t see it.

“There we go. All better?” He stood up, straightening his shirt. Laughable, considering my blood was all over his pantleg. I narrowed my eyes at him in reply. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He bent down over me, brushing his thumb tenderly across my cheek. I whirled my head to try and bite it, but he was too quick. He gave a humorless laugh. “I’ve decided that I’ll be good! _Ich werde das hier auskosten_.”

“I don’t speak that. So, whatever it is, keep your weird sentiments to yourself.” Oof. Pain in the back of my head. I was sort of regretting hitting my head on the pole so many times. On top of the other pain, it was all pushing unbearable.

He gave me two soft pats on the cheek, a mockery of affection. “Get some rest, okay?” He straightened himself back up and stretched before ascending the stairs and slamming the door behind him. My situation was still absolutely deplorable, but at least he was gone now. I wasn’t comfortable in the darkness, and I certainly wasn’t comfortable in my current position, but I was exhausted. He seemed to have worn himself out with whatever you would call what he just did, so I was sure he wouldn’t be back for a few hours at the very least. As much as I hated it, I did need to sleep. The blood loss and pain was taking a toll. I would go mad if I didn’t let myself re-energize.

I pushed my injured leg out in front of me so I didn’t agitate the new stitches, and positioned myself as well as I possibly could and let myself fall into slumber.

Again, I didn’t dream. I think my mind couldn’t come up with anything crazier than I was already enduring. No nightmare could hold a candle to this, and even the sweetest dream couldn’t ease it. It was a restless sleep, and one that brought no peace.

I hardly realized when my eyes finally opened, and it took me a moment to comprehend I was longer sleeping. The room was dark and quiet, and I was relieved when I noticed that I was alone. I didn’t hear any noise from upstairs, so I assumed Strade was passed out somewhere.

I took a deep breath. I needed to use this to my advantage. I couldn’t take another day with that raging psychopath. There had to be some way out of here, or something I could use. But first, I had to get out of these zip ties. They were just plastic. Strong plastic, but plastic no less. It might hurt a bit, but I could get them loose.

I pulled, straining against the restraints. It hurt like a motherfucker, but I kept pulling.

After several tries, one of the loops finally slipped a tick. It was loose enough that I could slip one hand through if I pulled hard enough. I was careful not to dislocate my wrist as I wiggled my hand free. When I brought my hands forward, I rubbed my raw wrist, smearing the old and new blood up my arm. I was elated to be free, but I wasn’t really sure what to do now.

First things first, I braced myself against the foundation as I got to my feet. My thighs burned as the sutures protested the movement, sending jolts of warning pain up my body. I swore under my breath. I felt faint, and I had to steady myself against the wall. It had been at least 24 hours since I’d eaten anything. I needed my strength, which meant I had to find some food.

Wait, that fridge! The one with the beer! Maybe there was something in there. At the very least, there would be something to drink. I was parched.

Slowly, I maneuvered over towards the ice box and sat down on my knees before opening it. The light took me by surprise for a moment. It was stocked with beer and Tupperware filled with various dark liquids. I swallowed back the fear and didn’t let myself look for too long. I didn’t want to know. I had a good idea what Strade did in his spare time, and that was all I needed to avoid them entirely. Pushing them aside, I quietly moved my hand around, searching for something edible that wasn’t frowned upon by polite society.

Near the back, I felt a plastic bag with some form of meat. I pinched it between my fingers and brought it forward. It seemed innocuous enough, and looked like steak. I tried to set aside any doubt that this was something other than beef and opened the bag, taking a modest bite. It tasted like steak. Granted, I’d never eaten anything… else. I shook my head, finishing off the meat as quietly as I could. I didn’t want to think what Strade would do if he came down and found me rummaging around in his shit.

After I ate, I felt much better. My stomach calmed down a bit, and I could feel my strength return slightly. I was still thirsty, so I reached in and grabbed a beer out of the fridge too. I frowned when I looked at the tab. This would be loud. I exhaled, praying that wherever Strade was, he was too busy or far away to hear what I was about to do. I opened it as slowly as possible, trying to draw out the noise in exchange for volume level. Eventually I pried the cap entirely, and I chugged it down.

I had never been so grateful for nasty, cheap beer before.

The can was empty before I knew it, and I stared at it, not entirely sure what to do with it. I looked around the corner behind the work bench and saw a bunch of empties. Not the cleanest wackjob, and I thanked God for it. I set it delicately on the stack before grabbing another one. I didn’t know how long it would be before I was able to get sustenance again, so I had to take the opportunity. I already felt a little tipsy from the first one, thanks to the lack of food in my stomach, and I had to admit, inebriation wasn’t entirely unwelcome right now. Anything to make my situation bearable

I repeated the process, slowly uncapping the tap and drinking the contents. I let out a silent burp, content with meal for the moment. It was the best I was going to get here, and considering the circumstances, it wasn’t half bad.

Now for more pressing matters.

I didn’t dare try to sneak upstairs. I wagered that this wasn’t Strade’s first rodeo. He would no doubt have ‘safety’ measures in place in case one of his captives got free. Not to mention, I definitely wasn’t going to walk blind into that situation. I had no idea where I was or worse, where _he_ was. It was better to deal with him first and then make my escape.

There were tons of weapons down here. Problem was, there was none that he wouldn’t immediately notice missing. Organized chaos. Everything had a place. It made me nervous to touch anything. It took a moment, but I finally convinced myself that he was going to kill me either way, that didn’t mean I had to make it easy for him.

I crept over to the work bench. I ignored the ones on top, assuming that those were his most prized. Instead, I opted for the drawers. I looked around inside, feeling some plastic shelving inside. Small scalpels of different sizes. Would he notice one of them missing? Maybe. I didn’t know if they were numbered or anything. Too risky. I lifted up the shelving, patting my hand around the inside of the drawer.

“Ouch!” Something pricked my finger.

I grasped it, bringing it close to my face so I could see. It was a small blade. Nothing impressive, but it didn’t have to be to nick an artery or stab into a chest. Good size too, I could probably hide it on the other side of the column without him taking notice.

I smirked, laughing silently to myself.

“We’ll see who wins this, Strade. You picked the wrong bitch.”

I heard thumping above me. Someone was awake. Shit! I scrambled back to the pole, wincing as I stuffed my wrists back through the loop, reopening the wounds. I hoped he wouldn’t notice. I waited, blood roaring in my ears and anxiety pulsing through me. Was he coming?

I waiting in the dark for what seemed like an eternity. Every once in a while, the noise would return, but it didn’t seem to get any closer. Whatever Strade was doing, he didn’t seem interested in me at the moment. I was partially relieved, but part of me wanted to get it over with.

I had never killed someone before. What did it feel like?

I guess I’d find out. It was a small comfort to know the person would deserve it.

Moving my hands around behind my back, I did my best to position the knife inconspicuously behind me, pulling my hands up so if for whatever reason, he untied me, he wouldn’t see it. I tapped my feet together, staring into the black space in front of me. There was really nothing to do now but wait. If I tried, I might be able to get some more sleep. I was going to need it. I’d need all my wits about me to pull this off.

I closed my eyes, daydreaming about shoving the knife through his neck. I imagined scenario after scenario, running through all my options. I just needed him to get close. I just needed him to get close enough.

Eventually, I drifted off again.

It seemed like I only blinked before I was rudely awakened by the lights snapping on and the sound of his cheerful voice bellowing through the room.

“Wake up, _liebling_! Still sleeping?” My eyes flickered open, greeting me with his noxious smile. I blew the air out of my mouth, scowling at him.

“I have a wonderful day pla-hmmm.” He took a step in the room, peering around inquisitively. I gulped, praying he didn’t notice anything out of place. I had been careful, right? There’s no way he could have told already. He paced around the room, inspecting the work bench and the surrounding area. I quickly glanced around the ceiling, looking for cameras. Maybe he had been watching, and he was just toying with me? Nothing was there, just the same walls you’d find in any generic unfinished basement. I swallowed my anxiety and watched him move, doing my best to seem indifferent.

It was several minutes before he spoke again, bending down by the fridge. My blood ran cold. Fuck! He knew, he knew! He fucking knew! How was that even possible?

“My…” He reached his hand out, running down along the handle of the fridge, bringing it to his face before rubbing his fingers together. “Someone has been naughty.” He turned to me slowly, that horrible smile creeping across his face. He brought his hand up, showing me the blood swiped across his fingers.

In the darkness, I had forgotten my wrists were bleeding. I had left a trail.

And everything had been going… so well.

“Where is it, _mein haustier_?” He stalked toward me. Panic rose in my chest. “I know you took something of mine, didn’t you? You know…” He licked his lips, bending down on his knees in front of me, a tiger waiting to pounce. “You shouldn’t touch things that don’t belong to you.”

It was now or never. He was going to kill me either way. I grit my teeth and yanked my wrist free from the binding, ignoring the pain as the plastic slashed against my skin.

“Come and get it, you fucking psycho!” I grabbed the knife I had planted, slashing my palm slightly as I lunged at him. His eyes widened as I landed on top of him, sending us both toppling to the cold ground. He seemed taken back and momentarily stunned, so I used the time to my advantage, straddling him and positioning myself over his groin. I brought my other hand up, digging my nails into his neck as I placed the blade at his jugular. We were both breathing heavy, and I started to laugh as I sunk the blade into his yielding flesh.

“I’d say something clever but I’d rather get this over with. Goodbye, Strade. Better luck next time.” My hand shook as I pushed the knife in deeper, a small stream of blood starting to fall from his skin down onto his shirt. His mouth was open, and for a moment, I almost expected him to beg. Just slash the knife a little further and this nightmare will be over. End him!

“ _Mein Gott…_ ” He mumbled, breathless. My lip curled into a sadistic sneer. I hated myself, but I wanted to hear him. I wanted to hear his pleas and death throes. After everything he had done to me, I wanted to hear him beg.

“Make it quick, Strade. A little further and you’re going to bleed to death underneath me.” I leaned in closer to his head, putting my lips to his ear as I slowly inched the blade further in. “And I’m going to love it.” I felt him shiver, and then… A moan?

I yanked myself away, a look of confusion plastering itself on my face. I never once moved the knife or relinquished my hold on him, but suddenly, I felt less in control than I had only a moment ago.

“ _So sehe ich dich gerne!_ ” His golden eyes flashed with some unknown emotion as he stared up at me, sweating underneath his collar. I felt an intrusion between my legs, and the realization hit me like a brick wall. He was turned on. Extremely, by the feel of it. He liked this. I snarled, digging the blade a little deeper. Blood wept freely from the wound, but that didn’t seem to discourage him. His breathing was sporadic and his eyes were wild with panic, but I was still almost offended he wasn’t taking this more seriously.

“You think this is a fucking game? You think I won’t kill you?” I shouted, grinding my nails against the skin of his neck. It left little red scrapes that littered his flesh. His tongue extended, massaging his upper lip.

“I know you would, _mein maus_.” He craned his head, voluntarily placing his artery precariously close to his ultimate end. “Oh, I’ve underestimated you. You are so….” He threw his head back, laughing. “Beautiful.”

“We’re a little past the compliment stage, don’t you think?” I dug my knee into his gut, and he flinched. “You should have stuck to being a weirdo at the bar. Time to end this.” I prepared myself to plunge the knife in.

“ _Mein engel,_ this is far from over.” His eyes narrowed on me as he licked his lips, like he knew something I didn’t. Like a predator toying with their meal. Ice ran through my veins and I lost my nerve. I slashed the knife across his neck in a hurry.

 Blood. Weeping. Not spraying.

I had missed. Only by a few inches, but enough to reduce the lethality factor. This would injure him, but it was likely not fatal. My heart sunk. The knife quivered in my hand as he began push himself into an upright position. I was frozen in place, my mind screaming at me to stab at him again. He exhaled, relishing in the pain. “Oh _!_ **_Schätzchen_**!”

Air caught in my lungs and it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I could feel my heart beat in my hands, my grip slipping on the knife as a mixture of both of our blood coated the handle. I shoved the blade at his neck again, but he only laughed, bringing one of his hands to caress my back and the other gently stroked my arm, leaving streaks of blood to dry on my skin.

He shuddered against me, breath hitting the exposed skin on my shoulder. I shivered, my hand still braced on his neck. I was terrified, petrified in fear.

“ _Ich will dich so sehr_ …” He placed his head between the crook of my neck, and I gasped as I felt his tongue trail towards my ear, droplets of his blood falling against my stomach. The hand on my back moved slowly upward, playfully pulling on strands of my hair while his other hand ran his fingers gently on my arm, tracing patterns in the plasma. I didn’t know what he was saying, and part of me was curious enough to ask. The other part knew I probably didn’t want to know.

He took a deep breath against me, inhaling the scent of my hair. “You smell… so good.” He brought a bloody hand up, swiping a streak of blood across my cheek. I was horrified, but paralyzed in place. Move! Push him off. Run for the door. Anything but sitting here on his lap like a casual lover’s picknick while he etches macabre pictures into your skin and stimulates himself to the smell of your dirty hair. Fucking Anything. Just do something!

My hand tightened on his shoulders as I prepared to push myself off and make a break for the door. I looked in his eyes one last time, and instantly regretted it. The anxiety was gone, places with a glazed and filmy expression. His skin flushed red. He looked like he was about to explode.

As his pupils met mine, they widened, deranged and manic. “I can’t wait any longer!”

He balled the hand near the back of my head, bringing a chunk of my hair into his fist. I cried out, weakly swinging the knife out of instinct. His other hand grasped my weapon hand, pushing his thumb into the tendon until the knife clattered to the floor. He yanked my head back while simultaneously scooting closer to me, biting painfully on my jaw.

I protested, trying to pull myself away, kick my legs, anything to get free. It was no use, he was so strong. I yelled in despair, trying to claw his hands away, but he only laughed and forced me up against his chest. He sat up tall, bringing his face down on mine, that sick fucking smile back on his face and his eyes lazily resting on me.

I stared helplessly up at him, all my energy and will power gone. I had blown my chance, and I knew I was going to pay for it with my life. He was giggling madly, eyes burning into me. I had ruined my only chance. It played over and over in my head like a broken record. He was going to kill me. I hoped he made it quick, but if my experience with him was any clue, it was certainly not going to be. His hand on my wrist tightened again, and I winced.

“ _Liebling…_ ” He bit his lip, and I clamped my eyes shut, waiting for the pain.

Moments passed, and none ever came. I cracked my vision slightly just in time to see him slam his mouth onto mine. My eyes shot open. Was he… kissing me? I tried to pull away, but the hand he had rested on my back moved up to my chest, pinching a nipple between his fingers over my bra, and I gasped in response. He took the opportunity and thrust his tongue into my mouth, shoving it down my throat. He tasted like stale beer and meat.

He cast my wrist aside, opting to place his hand on my other breast instead, kneading it in his palm. I put my hands on his shoulders and tried to push him off, but he only held me tighter, pawing at me wildly. Electricity shot down my spine and nestled deep in my belly. I loathed it, but his ministrations felt good, even as he dominated and subdued me into submission. I tried to remind myself over and over that he was going to kill me, what he had done to me, but when one of his hands slipped down between my legs, my thoughts turned to static and my legs felt weak.

“ _Hübsches Mädchen_ …” He rubbed his fingers in a circular motion around my clit. I tried to bite back a moan, but I knew he could feel it. He chuckled, bringing the hand on my breast up to my neck, tightening it just enough to show his dominance again.

“ _Sie sind meinig_!” He snarled, ripping the flimsy underwear from my body and throwing it aside. I squeaked, scrambling to cover myself, but he wasn’t having it. He shoved me onto the floor below, my head knocking against the cement, no doubt reopening the cut I had gotten earlier. I was dizzy and delirious, but I saw him descend on me, nuzzling his head against my chest as he spread my bruised and bloody knees open beyond his own. He brought his hand back up to my apex, rubbing me with his thumb as he slipped a finger inside me. Pleasure coiled in my abdomen, even as I tried flutily to scoot away.

He moved the hand from my neck, fishing something from his pockets. The knife. It flashed in the light and my anxiety spiked enough to make me sick again. He brought it down to me, but flipped it upwards and sawed the thin fabric that held my bra together, letting it snap and flap pathetically behind me. The cold air hit me and I felt myself stiffen.

“Mmm… You like this, _ja_?” He moved to suck on my skin, slowly licking up my chest. I squirmed, unable to hold back a moan as he took a nipple into his mouth, moving his tongue around it, biting and flicking.

“N-no!” I tried to shove at him again, but he pushed me down into the cement, digging nails into my skin as a warning. He began moving his finger in and out of me in a steady rhythm. My breath hitched, but I couldn’t shake off the pleasure that was slowly building.

“Strade… I don’t- I don’t want this! Stop!” I cried out between ragged breaths.

He laughed, deep and cruel, shoving a second finger inside of me, stretching me. Gods know where his hands had been, but the more he probed me, the less I cared. I moaned, biting my lip and I tried one last time to weakly throw him off. He tucked the knife aside, using his newly freed hand to gather my wrists up, pinning them above my head against the floor. He drifted his lips to my neck, biting playfully, smearing the blood that dripped from his cut onto my chest. His thumb against the tender bundle of nerves moved quicker, and I felt his hand getting wetter from between my legs. The sound it made as he maneuvered his hand in and out was obscene.

“Ah! So… Wet…” He sighed, pulling his hand away and rubbing my wetness between his fingers. The way he said it sounded sinful. I turned in shame, trying to look away, embarrassed and grasping at my last bit of sanity. He grabbed my cheeks with the defiled hand, wiping my fluids on my face, mixing it with the dried blood. “None of that.”

He leaned away, never releasing me from his grip. He ran his eyes over my form, blinking slowly. “I need… to be inside you.” I winced, not entirely sure which ‘inside’ me he meant. He dragged his hand down across my face, pushing his fingers slightly into my mouth. They were rough against my tongue and tasted like tang and copper. “I want to hear you scream for me.”

He removed himself from my mouth after a few seconds, reaching down to unzip his trousers. Holy shit, this was really happening. I was half sick with the pleasure, part of me wanting to scrape and plead for him to stop again, the other half begging for him to hurry. It was disgusting, but I wanted him. Think, woman, think! Don’t play into this! Fight!

He pulled his cock free. I couldn’t help but glance down. It was large, flushed pink, almost purple and leaking at the tip. He stroked himself a few times, moaning between his teeth as he positioned himself between my legs. He let go for a moment, slowly pushing his fingers inside me once more and then pulling away, dragging my liquid along his length. The hand against my wrists strained tighter as I struggled. He crawled slightly closer, his tip pressing against my entrance.

“Strade, don’t! This isn’t what I wa-Aah!” He shoved inside of me midsentence. My mind went blank. I felt full, scraping against the ground as his body collided with my own. Pleasure shot through me, and my protests turned into a cry. I could see him, his eyes closed with his mouth agape. He sat still inside me for several seconds before his hips began to stir.

“ _Scheiße_ … You’re so… fucking tight. So warm.”  He slammed into me again and a mix of pain and bliss wound together. I clamped my thighs around him, beckoning him closer. I let my head fall back weightlessly onto the floor as he pushed inside me again. “So perfect.”

I hummed wordlessly as he rocked his body, resting himself on his elbow, still keeping my wrists restrained. His spare hand palmed at my chest, pinching and pulling at my sensitive nipple. Heat pooled between my legs, making his movements more effective. In my haze, I moved my hips to match his movements, pushing him further inside me.

“Fuck! S-Strade!” My cheeks flushed, hearing myself beg for him. I didn’t want him to stop. I didn’t want to stop. I was sick and twisted and wrong, but my mind was empty and all I knew was desire. 

I felt him shift onto his knees, grabbing and lifting my body, yanking me upward to meet him. My head and chest remained on the floor, but my lower body was still conjoined with his, raised several inches above the ground. The palm on my chest slowly trailed down my body. He released my wrists, and using both of his hands, he clutched my thighs instead, thrusting forward and impaling me on his cock again. I cried out, unable to hold it back. My hands were thrown uselessly behind me. I just allowed him to use me.

“Aah!” He swore in German, pounding into me. After he gained a steady momentum, he let go of one side and began rubbing between my legs again. I cried out, grasping at the floor as I felt the pleasure build higher and higher. My inhibitions finally just let go. I only knew one thing, and that was that I wanted him.

“Don’t stop!” My head lolled, thighs contracting around his waist, pulling him closer. “Fuck!”

He snarled primally, bearing his teeth down at me, but not stopping. After a few more minutes of this, he withdrew from me, and I whimpered, feeling empty from the loss. My legs hit the cold floor gracelessly.

He leaned down close to me, sucking my earlobe. “ _Außer mir wird dich keiner hören. Schrei soviel du willst. Ich mag es, wenn du schreist_!” He roughly grabbed my leg, bringing it up behind his back and letting his body fall on me, forcing himself inside me even further. I couldn’t help but yelp as he hit my cervix. I brought my hands up, nails digging into his back as he fucked me into the floor.

He slammed himself deep inside me, his hand still rubbing circles around my clit. There was pain as he bruised me, inside and out, his nails raking across my leg and his cock barraging my insides, but there was so much pleasure. My body was beside itself, unsure whether to cry or moan, and all I could do was pull him closer, needing him. I was close.

The hand assaulting my thigh disappeared behind him, and he pulled out the knife. I could see it, but the fear only mixed with my excitement, heightening me senses. He slowed his pumping, bringing both his hands to my neck, one holding me firmly, the other grazing the knife across my neck. I whined as he left my sex, but stared attentively up at him, still meeting his lazy thrusts.

“I could… cut you. Kill you now…” He pressed the blade into my neck, and I hissed in response.

“You could. Or you could keep doing what you’re doing.” I sighed, breathlessly.

He laughed, hand tightening on my neck. “ _Ja, so... Du hast noch nicht genug, was?”_

I glowered at him, bringing my hand up and scratching down his chest. “Stop talking and fuck me before I decide I’d rather you kill me.”

His golden eyes shined again, half drunk on elation with a hint of surprise. “You do like this?” His thrusts were weighted and his guard was down. The knife against my neck was wavering. I saw an opportunity and I took it.

I heaved my body over, his knife slashing me lightly as I turned our bodies over, flipping us. I felt a blinding pain as my sutures ripped as I straddled him again, settling my opening over him and rubbing down only slightly, enough to tease him. I ignored the pain in my thigh as best I could. That was a problem for later. He seemed alarmed for a moment until I sunk down onto him. His eyes rolled back and he relaxed at my mercy, arms falling lightly against my hips as the knife fell to the ground beneath us. I dug my nails into his chest, slowly rolling my hips.

“You know,” My hand drifted up to his chin, coercing his head forward and forcing him to look at me. “If this is what you wanted, you should have just asked. The kidnapping and the _torture_ ,” I slammed down hard, knocking the wind out of him. “wasn’t necessary.”

Continuing to grind my pelvis against his, I brought my hand down onto his neck, letting it settle into the clotting blood running down his neck. He grabbed me out of instinct, and I put his own hand to his wound. After a moment, I brought his bloody limb to my chest, holding it to my chest. His hand faltered, grasping around for a moment, slipping around the sweat and the blood before finally getting a grip.

It was disgusting. It was wrong. It also didn’t matter now. He was likely going to kill me. Fuck it. If I wanted to bounce around on his cock a little, who could judge me? Besides, I had been alone for so long. It didn’t seem all that out of bounds to try and make a connection, even if it was with a complete psychopath who locked me in his basement.

He pulled at my nipple again and I moaned freely, letting my body settle against his chest as I continued to ride him. He brought his empty hand up and shoved it against the back of my head, pushing me against his cut neck, removing the other from my breast and pushing on my shoulder, holding me down. The smell of copper was overwhelming, and I could feel his blood smear against my face as he started to thrust into me again, meeting my own needy rolls.

“Ahh! You-“ He let out a ragged breath before digging his claws into me. “ _Fühlt sich gut an, nicht wahr?_ ”

I was breathing heavy against his collarbone, sweat and blood mixing on my face. I could taste it on the corner of my mouth. If there was a God, I hoped it was blind. This had to be hell worthy. Not the act alone, but for the fact I was literally praying he wouldn’t stop.

“Yes! God, fuck, yes! Whatever you say, just don’t stop!” His abdomen pressed against me was stimulating my clit as he drove into me, sending another wave of pleasure through me. He held me down against him while he thrust, wildly driving his cock in and out. Euphoria. Building. Higher and higher. So close now. Gods, I’d let him cut me a thousand times if he fucked me like this every day.

I sobbed wantonly against his skin, feeling every sensation against my sensitive body. Blood. Sweat. His hands pressed against me, raking against my flesh. The smell of his hair. Agony. Bliss.

“You-“ His breathing was faster now. He was getting close too. “You filthy- Aah! Little girl! If I’d have known, I’d have had you-“ He was struggling to get words out coherently. “on the floor of that bar!”

“Yo-You preferred to eat my fries an-and creep me out.” I sighed against his shoulder.

“No matter now…” He slammed me down hard, eliciting a yell from me. “ _Ich möchte Dich betteln hören!_ Beg for me!”

It was humiliating, but damned if I wasn’t going to do it. I’d do worse things than that to keep this feeling.

“Strade! Fuck! Strade please!” I was breathless, dizzy and intoxicated on this fucking deviant. I wanted more. I needed more. “P-please fuck me harder!”

He gave a sinister laugh underneath me, moving his hand from my shoulder, wrapping his fingers around my neck instead. He pressed down, tightening his grip as he pushed me away slightly, maneuvering my head up and bringing us face to face. I could breathe, although it wasn’t easy. It was a show of strength, meant to keep me in my place. He was practically breathing into my mouth and I could smell metal in his breath.

“ _Oh, etwa so?_ ” He crashed his hips into me with painful power, and our mouths collided violently. He was all teeth and tongue and biting, probing around my mouth and nipping at my bottom lip. I let him, swallowing his taste and taking it into me. Somewhere along the line, he bit a little too hard, and I knew he had split my lip. Blood leaked from my mouth and I felt it dribble down between our chins. If he noticed or could taste it, I couldn’t tell, but he didn’t seem to mind either way.

His thrusts became stronger and more erratic, and it took effort to keep from throwing my head back in ecstasy. I coiled tighter around him, twisting my hips in an attempt to match his rhythm and gain friction. “Fu-ck! Strade, I’m gunna-“ I was lightheaded and half sick with the feeling. Don’t. Stop. His thumb and forefinger were pressed tightly against the sides of my neck, stopping blood flow and making me delirious from the pleasure. “I’m gunna-“ He bit down on the cut on my lip, effectively silencing me as I huffed and yipped in pain.

“Scream for me, _liebling_!”

Something about the sight of my blood coating his teeth, his violent, hateful thrusts, and my head feeling like it could float away from my body sent me over the edge. My body spasmed and racked with uncontainable bliss, blinding white pleasure flashing stars behind my eyelids. He wanted me to scream, and I did, loud and uninhibited. My entire being felt like heaven, and it had been this filthy demon who delivered me. My walls contracted around him, milking him through into his own finish. I felt his cock pulse deep inside me and somewhere miles away, I heard him bellow underneath me, cursing in broken mixes of both English and German as he sliced into my back with his dirty fingernails, no doubt drawing blood.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that. The orgasm was so intense that I wasn’t even sure of my name anymore. His must have been similar, because for a few moments while he rode out the remainder of his euphoria, he lovingly draped his arms over me, pulling me close against his chest while he lazily pushed himself inside a few more times.

But all things must come to and end.

Reality hit like a truck. He was soft inside me still, and I could feel the mix of both of our fluids leaking from between my legs. I became acutely aware of his breathing; how calm it was. The silence was deafening.

Looks like the party was over.

I was simultaneously horrified with myself, and proud. What now? I fucked him, or he had fucked me, whatever, but we had both royally fucked each other. He seemed as unsure as I was about what came next. Did he tie me back up? Did he kill me and get it over with? He said nothing, but the twitching of his fingers against my skin was clue enough.

I thought about jumping up and bolting, but honestly, I didn’t trust my shaky legs to carry me very far. He would no doubt catch me. Should I beg? He seemed to like that a lot. Maybe our forbidden tryst had somehow endeared me to him. It wouldn’t be too much to ask for, right? After all, we shared a lot in the past hour. Emotions. Body fluids. Blood. We were still covered in each of them, with no idea of what belonged to who.

I felt him jerk underneath me, and I braced myself for whatever was going to happen. I looked around frantically for the knife I had cast aside earlier, but I didn’t get the chance to retrieve it. He brought my body up with him and he went to stand, pushing me off only to pick me up and pull me close to him, wrapping one arm around my waist, the other tucked tenderly under my chin.

I only stared at him, unsure of what to do now. He returned my sentiment, gazing down contentedly at me, smiling slightly. After a moment, he bent down, kissing me tenderly. I could taste my blood in his kiss, and there was something intimate about it.

He pulled away gently, turning away from me and making himself presentable, tucking himself back into his pants and straightening his shirt. I looked around the room, swallowing. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I had no idea. Where did you go from this? I looked down at my legs, noticing the sutures had come undone, leaving half of my cuts open and weeping. Maybe I should ask him to sew those back up? Ease the tension a little? Maybe I shou-

Blinding pain in my jaw.

I didn’t even have time to register what happened. I just opened my eyes and found myself sprawled on the floor, feeling unbelievable pain radiating on the side of my chin. Strade was standing in front of me with a clenched fist, looking like a wild animal. He had cold clocked me and knocked me on my ass. I was too stunned to even cry out when it happened.

“What the fucking fuck!” I cradled my jaw. Sure, I didn’t know what to expect, but I don’t think it had been that.

“You!... This!” He howled, gesturing to the floor. He threw his hands up to his scalp, tugging angrily at his hair. “What have you done?!”

I recoiled, trying to inch away from him. He was unhinged, now laughing maniacally while pacing in a circle. I flailed my hand about, my eyes never leaving his him as I searched for a knife, his or mine, to hopefully defend myself if he lunged at me.

“Haa… Ha ha!” He stalked to the side and threw his fist out, punching the concrete. I cringed as his knuckles collided with the wall. Jesus fucking Christ!

He turned to me again, shaking off what was most likely several broken fingers. He took several steps forward before shaking his head, muttering under his breath in German, laughing or occasionally swearing. His eyes flicked up to mine, wide and demented.

“ _Ich wette, Du wüßtest gerne, was ich sage, richtig?_ Huh?!” He sneered at me, his tone almost condescending.

“I don’t… I don’t understand what you’re saying!” I pleaded weakly, bringing my hands up by my face in case he decided to try and hurt me again.

“Of course not. No, no, this is all wrong!” He raked his nails down the side of his face. “Do you see what you have done?!”

I had no idea what he was talking about. I’m not sure he did either.

“This… This will not do. No.” He turned, stalking towards the workbench and yanking open one of the drawers, throwing the contents onto the table, searching for something. Fear and bile rose in my throat. This was it.

“Wha-What’re you looking for?” I squeaked out. He ignored me, throwing aside various knives and tools in his search for whatever it was.

“ _Ja!”_ He pulled something out from inside a small black case. A needle, filled with God knows what. I didn’t know if I wanted to know. I just prayed that whatever it was, it would be quick and at least somewhat painless. He turned towards me, laughing while he slowly gained on me again. I tried to crawl away, but I only made it a few feet before I felt the wall behind me. I was cornered. Nowhere to run anymore. “I need you… To be gone.”

“I’ll leave! I’ll leave and never come back! You don’t have to kill me! I promise I won’t tell anyone! Just fucking let me go!” I wrapped my hands around my exposed chest, pulling my knees up, trying to make myself as small as possible.

He tutted, seeming almost sad as he crouched down next to me, flicking the needle with his fingers. His other hand reached out, and I flinched when he tenderly stroked my cheek.

“ _Mein liebe…_ ” He sighed, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to mine. “I will never let you go.”

Tears fell from my eyes even as I shut them, trying to hold it back.

“…Please.”

It was a whisper, and I knew it was fruitless. He had made up his mind. I had to go.

“Shhh…” He brushed my hair away from my neck, rubbing the spot gingerly as he placed another small kiss on my head. “We will see each other again… I’ll make sure of it.”

A pinch. Gentle, but painful. He pushed the needle down, releasing the liquid into my system. The effect was immediate. I felt heavy, slouching helplessly against the wall. My vision started to blur, and slowly, Strade faded into black. I felt as he pulled the needle away, stroking my hair as I faded into oblivion. I didn’t have long. I could my heart slow in my chest, no energy left to even panic. I heard him sigh, never moving from his place in front of me. A sick part of me wanted to use the last of my life to thank him for having mercy, for making it painless, but I was sure he knew. No doubt it was hard for him, being a sadist and all. He went to all the effort to kidnap me, bind me, sew me, and he… he…

I…

…Strade…

Blackness. Abyss. Nothing. Was this death? Dreamless sleep? I guess I could deal with that. Might be a little boring.

Drifting.

More darkness.

Nothing.

 

 

Empty.

 

 

Sterile.

 

Bleach.

Ammonia.

Light?

 

The sound of my exhale was muffled, but still audible. Sort of like I was submerged in water, but could still breathe. Was I in heaven? Really? After everything? Did heaven smell like cleaning chemicals and hand sanitizer?

I tried to open my eyes, but I was still too weak. I tried to tick my fingers or kick my legs or something. I felt like I weighed a ton.

“Hey, we’ve got movement!” I didn’t recognize the voice.

I felt hands on me, and I recoiled. Pain. Everything hurt. Wasn’t I dead? Why could I still feel? Who was touching me?

“She’s waking up! Call the doctor and tell the nurse to phone the detectives!”

Waking up? You mean I _wasn’t_ dead?

Strade… let me live?

The people pushed and prodded at me, sticking various things on my skin, and occasionally changing out what felt like an IV. After what felt like ages, I was finally able to muster the strength to open my eyes. Bright white light assaulted my eyes and I hissed, looking away. I came face to face with bright pink scrubs. Some nurse making notes about my condition.

Jesus fuck, I was alive!

“Wh-what happened?” It took me a few tries to properly formulate the words as I blinked slowly at her. She seemed almost panicked as I looked up to her, and she opened her mouth to speak but stopped several times.

“Oh, honey, you’re awake! Let me get the doctor for you.” She hustled out, stopping someone just outside the door, speaking in hushed tones.

I guess they knew about what happened to me. But just how much did they know? What did I know? What did happen?

A pleasant looking doctor with salt and pepper hair and a friendly smile stepped inside and charmingly introduced himself. I could tell he was practiced with trauma patients because he kept a positive and happy demeanor while trying to side-step around exactly what happened to me to cause all this. He explained to me that I was in good condition now, and recovering from my injuries well. He seemed a little solemn when he asked if I felt well enough to talk to the police, however.

“Sure, I guess.” I was still a little loopy, and honestly, I wasn’t exactly sure what to tell them. I felt… odd about telling them the truth. How could you even explain what happened here?

He nodded, stepping outside and making room for two older gentlemen who introduced themselves as detectives. I didn’t catch their names. They asked if I remembered anything, and I made a split-second decision to lie, and tell them not really, that he kept me drugged a lot of the time. I don’t know why I lied.

They asked if I remembered exactly what happened to me, and I told them no. One of them bit his lip, calmly explaining that I had been abducted, tortured, and raped. They had taken DNA samples from my skin and had run a rape kit on me, but the blood was too heavily diluted with my own and the semen sample had come back inconclusive. Whoever had done this wasn’t in the system.

Whoever had done this. Strade. I didn’t know his last name, or where he had kept me. Hell, that could even be a fake name for all I knew. That info couldn’t help them.

“Where did they find me? How did I… get here?” I swallowed down emotion.

“You had been dropped off at the hospital parking lot wrapped in a blanket. We took the blanket to try and get some answers but it was brand new. No one saw the person who did it.” He shook his head. “It’s horribly insensitive to call you lucky, and I don’t want to alarm you, but your injuries were consistent with some of our other cases… The victims didn’t survive. Whoever did this to you, he wanted you to live. He let you go, but we don’t know why.” He touched my hand gently, trying to be reassuring. “We have a protective detail here watching over you, and when you’re ready to leave, we’d like to discuss further options. Whoever this person is, they’re dangerous. It’s safer to not gamble if he knows who and where you are.”

I only nodded. I didn’t know what to say.

They continued asking me questions, trying to be as polite as possible. I told them what I could. He kept me in a basement. He cut me. No, I didn’t remember what he looked like. No, I didn’t remember the rape.” Okay, so I lied a little. I don’t know why. It wasn’t like I was trying to protect Strade. I was protecting myself, right? I mean if they found out I willingly fucked him, I could get in trouble, right? Better safe than sorry… I think.

They thanked me for my time, leaving behind a business card and telling me to call if I remembered anything or even if I just wanted to talk. I gave them a smile, promising them I would. I set it aside. I remembered everything.

The nurse in the pink scrubs came back with food, and it hit me just how hungry I was. I devoured it, leaving nothing but the empty tray. When she came to take the tray away, she asked if I felt well enough for visitors.

“Visitors? Who?” I cocked an eyebrow at her. I wasn’t expecting anyone, nor did I think that anyone would come here.

“You have some friends here. The one’s that reported you missing. They’ve been asking about you since you got here, been here almost 24/7 since you arrived. Do you want me to tell them you need to rest?” She took the tray from me.

“No, no, I’ll see them! Send them in!” I almost shouted it. I had friends still?

She smiled kindly at me, nodding. A few moments later, my roommate, her boyfriend, and a few of my other old friends piled into the room.

“Oh my God, you’re okay!” My roommate threw herself down on my bedside, hugging me tightly. I cringed slightly as she accidentally kneaded into one of my cuts. “Sorry! I’m just so happy you’re alive!”

Me too, kiddo. Me too.

“We got your text about the bar that night! We were on our way to meet you but we got held up. When we got there, we couldn’t find you! I thought… I thought maybe you got too drunk again and stumbled off somewhere, but Alex found your broken phone in the alley way and got worried. When you didn’t come home the next day, we knew something was wrong. We called the police and told them you were missing.” She started crying, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “I’m so sorry.” She sobbed, hiccupping between words. “I’m sorry I doubted you. If we had just gotten there, maybe… maybe this wouldn’t have happened!”

I didn’t really know what to say to any of it. I just hugged her tightly as she cried.

“God, look at me over here. You’re the one in pain and I’m the one balling like a baby.” She wiped her eyes, sniffling. “I’m just so happy you’re okay.”

I was elated to have company. I chatted with them for a while, oddly amused by the way they skirted around what had truly happened to me. I knew they knew, but they tried to be sensitive to my psyche by not mentioning it. I appreciated it. I didn’t know what I’d say if they asked. A few hours passed as we talked, usually about old times or inside jokes. As it got dark, a nurse brought me my dinner and quietly told them that it was time I got some rest. They promised to come back tomorrow and gave me a few hugs as they left.

I ate my meal in peace, occasionally listening in to the conversations the doctors and nurses were having. It was strange. I didn’t know how long Strade had kept me, but it hadn’t been horribly long. How long had I been here? I reminded myself to ask eventually.

I was still in shock. He let me go. Strade let me go. The detective’s words echoed in my head.

_‘Your injuries were consistent with some of our other cases… the victims didn’t survive.’_

Strade was a serial killer. I guess I knew it, but I hadn’t been sure until now. Why did he let me live? Were there others out there who he had let go? No, the police would have known if something like this had happened before.

Why me?

After an hour or so, the nurse returned, taking my tray and setting down a little flower vase by my bedside table. It was a single red rose, still blooming.

“That’s beautiful. Do all the patients get these or am I special?” I chuckled.

“Oh no, sweetie, that’s from your boyfriend. Someone dropped it off here for him, and told us to tell you that he’s coming to see you when he gets back in town. No offense, but you have a shitty beau. If my hubby was in the hospital, I’d drop whatever I was doing and come be here with him.” She scowled. “It is pretty though.” She shrugged, picking up my chart and carrying it out of the room.

“Boyfriend?” My brow furrowed, and I called after her. “No, you must have the wrong room. I don’t have a….”

_Boyfriend._

The blood drained from my face and the room started to spin. The monitor beside me started to beep wildly with my raise in pulse. My vision started to tunnel, and doctors rushed into the room, shouting questions to me and each other, oblivious. I stayed silent, unable to speak as bile crawled up my throat.

Strade.

His last words to me.

‘ _We’ll see each other again. I’ll make sure of it._ ’

 

 

**If I could love, I would love you, but since I can’t, this will have to do.**

**Author's Note:**

> I don't speak German for shit, so if any German readers want to correct me, I'm fully open to it. But here's a rough translation of Strade. 
> 
> Liebling: Darling, or sweetheart. A term of endearment.  
> Süßling: Sweetie.  
> Lebhaft: Lively.  
> Dummes Mädchen: Stupid/silly girl.  
> Mein haustier: My pet.  
> Mein Gott: My God.  
> So sehe ich dich gerne: I like you like this.  
> Mein maus: My mouse (term of endearment.)  
> Mein engel: My angel.  
> Schätzchen: Treasure. Think 'My treasure.'  
> Ich will dich so sehr: I want you so much.  
> Hübsches Mädchen: Pretty girl.  
> Sie sind meinig: You are mine.  
> Scheiße: Shit.  
> Außer mir wird dich keiner hören. Schrei soviel du willst. Ich mag es, wenn du schreist: Nobody will hear you except me. Scream as much as you want. I like it when you scream.  
> Ja, so... Du hast noch nicht genug, was?: A fun way of saying "You want more?"  
> Fühlt sich gut an, nicht wahr?: This feels good, yes?  
> Ich möchte Dich betteln hören!: I want to hear you beg.  
> Oh, etwa so?: Like this?  
> Ich wette, Du wüßtest gerne, was ich sage, richtig?: I bet you'd like to know what I'm saying, right?  
> Mein Liebe: My love.


End file.
